The Bookworm and the Dark Lord
by Cornwall Writes
Summary: Hermione Granger is an outcast in her small Cornish village, so when she discovers a place where she fits in, she will do anything to stay there.
Hermione smiled as she stepped out of her front door. Crookshanks came out after her, rubbing his head against her ankles and grumbling slightly.

"It is a beautiful day, isn't it Crooksie?" Hermione bent to rub his head, but he darted off when a bird flew into a nearby bush. She sighed as she straightened, but she was smiling.

"What's got you up so early, Hermione?" Ron Weasley came out after her, squinting in the summer sun.

Hermione smiled slightly at him. "I have a book to return to the bookstore, and food to get for dinner."

Ron grinned at her. "You and your books. Can you grab some pasties while you're out? I feel like one for lunch today."

"Why not go get one yourself then?" Hermione turned to head back in, lifting her book bag from the table beside the door.

Ron frowned. "You know I don't wanna go into town, not until Lavender leaves."

Hermione sighed, but agreed to get him a pasty. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and walked off into the bright sun, leaving her best friend and her cat to spend the morning amusing themselves.

As she got near town, she slowed slightly. Ron might want to avoid Lavender, but Hermione wanted to avoid the whole town sometimes. They weren't huge fans of reading, any of them, and had strong ideas about what women should be like. Hermione didn't fit any of their definitions, and they had made this abundantly clear in the past two years. She hurried past the market stalls, managing to avoid eye contact with most people, and eventually got to the bookstore on the other side of town.

"Hello, my dear, and what can I help you with today?" Albus Dumbledore had the kind of twinkly eyes you expected from a character in a book, and Hermione felt her shoulders relax slightly.

"Good morning, sir, I've just come to return this book." She held it up for him to see, already reaching for the ladder to put it back on the shelf.

"The book you borrowed yesterday? I must admit, Miss Granger, I'm surprised even you finished it that quickly." He smiled at her, trying to take the sting out of his words.

Hermione smiled slightly, not really paying attention as her eyes scanned the books. "Nothing new?" Hope flared in her voice but she knew it was probably pointless.

"You just finished my last new one, Miss Granger, I'm sorry to say. I have a delivery coming in next week that should have plenty for you." Dumbledore bit back a sigh as her face fell.

"That's fine, I'll just take this one, if that's okay?" She picked a favourite off the shelf, holding it up so he could see the title.

He chuckled slightly. "You've borrowed that three times in the last month. Keep it, Miss Granger, and enjoy."

She tried to protest, but he waved his hand, refusing money. "Go, go home and read it again, and come back next week for something new."

She thanked him profusely, turning to leave the shop. She hurried around the market, getting the essentials for dinner and other household items. She tucked them all in her basket, her eyes lighting on the book she'd borrowed. As she reached the borders of town, her hand snaked back into the basket and she pulled the book out. It was a straight road home, and she was anxious to restart it.

She was just reaching the third chapter, where the princess met the hero for the first time, when the book was snatched out of her hands.

"Reading again, Granger? Haven't you something better to do?" Draco Malfoy stood in front of her, his house-elf cowering beside him.

"Than improve my mind? Not really, no." Hermione crossed her arms, feeling herself get more and more annoyed.

Draco glared at her. "You know what I mean, Granger. Couldn't you learn to sew, or cook, or something that would make you more marriageable?"

Hermione snorted, done with the conversation already. "As if I would want someone like you to marry me anyway. Now, can I have my book back?" she held her hand out, and Draco held the book up higher.

"I never suggested me marry you, that was your thought. Have you been harbouring little fantasies about me, bookworm?" The grin on his face was getting more and more annoying, and Hermione's palm began to itch.

"No, Malfoy, I don't harbour any fantasies about you, unless you count the ones where you leave town and I finally get to live peacefully."

Malfoy waggled his eyebrows at her. "Do we leave together?"

 _SLAP!_ The movement shocked both of them, but Hermione quickly recovered. "If you don't want me to tell everyone you got bested by me, give me my book back and leave me alone."

Malfoy handed her book back silently, his hand touching his cheek lightly. He moved out of her way, watching her leave.

"Dobby, make a note of this. I'm going to marry that girl if it's the last thing I do."

Dobby grabbed a piece of paper and a pen out of his pillowcase and scribbled down what he thought were words.

Luckily, Hermione didn't hear that exchange. She was lost once more in her book, and was surprised when she walked into her front door.

Ron laughed as he opened it, catching her slight tumble. "You alright, 'Mione? Get a little lost?"

"Oh ha bleeding ha, Ronald." She dumped her basket on the table, beginning to unpack it. She turned around to find him still by the door, a piece of paper in his hand and bags at his side. "Where are you going?"

"Mum needs me tomorrow to help her with some gardening thing." He rolled his eyes at her, and she grimaced in sympathy. Molly's garden was legendary. "I should be back the next morning. Will you be okay on your own for a couple of days?"

It was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes. "Yes, Ron, I'll be fine. I'm not a child." Neither of them mentioned that she wouldn't be welcome at Molly's house since her and Ron weren't together and Hermione refused to conform to Molly's ideas of what a woman should be doing in her early twenties. Namely, getting married and popping out a couple of children.

"Right, then, I'll get going. Sooner I get there the sooner I can come back." He crossed the room to her side, stopping slightly to kiss her on the cheek. "Be good, Hermione, and try to remember to eat." He grinned and dodged out of the way of the apple she threw at him, catching it one handed. "Thanks for the snack."

She laughed as he picked up his bags and headed out to the horse. She bustled about the kitchen, putting groceries away and singing slightly to herself. She was glad to have the house to herself, because it meant unlimited reading time. She fixed herself a quick lunch, settling down in the window seat to eat and start her book over.

She only noticed the time when she had to strain her eyes to see the words in front of her. Stretching, she glanced at a clock on the fireplace, surprised to see it was after nine at night. Not feeling particularly hungry, she made a small snack and hot chocolate, eating quickly and heading to bed. Reading always exhausted her.

The next morning, she woke to Crookshanks pawing at her nose. She sneezed as she sat up, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. "Crooks, what is it?" The clock said it was only half six, and she glared at the cat. "Do you really need to go outside right now?" When the cat howled back at her, she flung back her bedsheets and got up, grumbling all the way. She flung the door open, glaring at the rising sun. She closed her eyes against it, only opening them when it was blocked by something.

Their horse. What was it doing back? Hermione walked over to it, checking for damage and running her hands down the trembling beast. It looked scared witless, and Hermione was confused. She tried to comfort it, but it kept pacing and she knew it was restless. She tied it to a tree, climbing on so she could walk it gently around. But it pulled free of its reins and galloped away, heading down the path Ron had taken the day before.

As they rode into the forest, Hermione tried to get her bearings. When it took the right fork of two paths, Hermione knew she would soon be lost. She preferred not to wander around the forest, even during the day; she had recurring nightmares of living in a forest and never being able to leave. Eventually the horse started to slow down, stopping outside of a giant house. She climbed down slowly, making sure the horse was tied securely to the railings of the gate before she explored any further. She had no idea why the horse had led her here, but she had a sick feeling in her stomach that it had something to do with her friend.

The mansion was cold and empty. The summer sun wasn't high enough to break through the dense forest, and she could barely see where she was going. As she wandered, she saw light under a door, and headed towards it, hoping to speak to whoever lived here.

Instead, she found another corridor. This one was lit though, so she continued down it, her feeling of dread sinking further into her gut. When she reached another door, she put her hand against it, debating knocking. But she'd come this far without seeing anybody, and she doubted she would now. The door swung open, revealing a room filled with cells.

She walked into the room slightly, to see if anyone was there, and a floorboard creaked under her shoe. She gasped slightly, turning quickly when a voice spoke from behind her.

"Is that you back again, Monster? I am not scared of you!" Ron's voice caused relief to flood through her, and she ran to where the voice was coming from. When she saw he was behind bars, tears filled her eyes.

"RON! What happened?!" Hysteria was threatening to break through already, and she knew she needed to calm down, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something awful was about to happen.

"Hermione?! You need to leave, right now. Trust me, Hermione, I'll be fine, but you need to go!" Ron rushed to the front of his cells, grapping the bars. His face was wild, fear hiding beneath his bravado.

"I'm not leaving you here. Once I get you out, we both leave." Hermione grabbed the lock, pulling at it to test it, as if she knew how to pick it.

"I don't think you'll be leaving at all. Either of you." A voice came from behind Hermione, and she swung around, missing how Ron cowered back.

"Hermione, run." His hoarse whisper sent chills down her spine, but she ignored him for the moment.

"Who are you?" Her voice didn't quaver and she felt unduly proud for half a moment before the sibilant hiss replied.

"I am the thing your nightmares are afraid of, little girl. Who are you, and what are you doing in my castle?" The voice came from the shadows, and Hermione strained her eyes to get a glimpse of its owner.

"My name is Hermione Granger, and I am here to save my friend." She ignored the way Ron grabbed her wrist, trying to get her to shush.

A laugh echoed from the shadows. "How very noble. And what are you going to do when you fail?"

Hermione shook her head slightly. "I never fail."

"Brave and self-obsessed. You remind me of someone I knew a long time ago…" There was a long silence, and Hermione held her breath as she waited for it to end. "Very well, your friend may leave. He was boring me anyway."

Hermione sighed with relief as the cell door opened behind her, and Ron hurried out. He hugged her tightly, murmuring into her hair that she was such an idiot but he was very grateful.

"You, Miss Hermione Granger, must stay in his place." They barely heard the whisper, but it made them hang on tighter for a moment. Ron released her, moving to stand between her and the shadows.

"No. Hermione is coming home with me. Let us go." His voice was strong, and Hermione felt a wave of love for him.

The shadows laughed again. "You are so very wrong. Either she stays, or you die. Choose."

Ron turned to face Hermione, but she was already pushing past him. "I'll stay. Please don't kill him." She turned back to Ron, holding his arms. "Ron, trust me on this. I'll get out, but now you need to leave. I couldn't…" Sobs stopped her from finishing that sentence.

Ron hugged her again, knowing what the end of the sentence would be. They had both lost a dear friend a few years ago, which had driven them to live together. Neither could picture a life without the other. He eventually let her go, and moved towards the door. Tears ran down both of their faces, but Ron didn't turn around and Hermione didn't ask him to.

When the door shut behind him, Hermione turned to face the shadows. "Well, I'm here. And he's gone. What do you want from me?"

"Right now, I want you to go to your new bedroom." One of the shadows moved away from the others, hovering near the door at the other end of the room. Hermione hesitantly moved towards it, and the shadow moved through the door.

"You want me to follow the shadow to a different room?"

"Do you need it explained more simply?" Shadows couldn't smirk but Hermione could sense one in the words. "Yes, you need to follow the 'shadow' until it stops, and then you will go into your new room and stay there until I call for you."

Hermione moved slowly towards the door, opening it and finding the shadow in the middle of a well-lit corridor on the other side. She followed it until it led to an opulent room, the door of which locked behind her as it slammed shut.

* * *

What felt like hours later, there was a knock at the door, and the lock clicked open. Hermione got off the bed and opened the door. There was a shadow outside, and Hermione looked around.

"I'm guessing he wants me to follow you?" She asked, but the shadow didn't move. She stepped out of her room, and the shadow started floating to the left. She followed it cautiously, wishing it could reply to her and let her know where she was going.

When it stopped in front of ornate double doors, Hermione glanced down at her clothes. A wild ride through the forest had done her no favours, and her already bushy hair had leaves and bits of branches stuck in it, while mud stained the hem of her dress and clung to her shoes. She tossed her head slightly, an arrogant move to show she didn't care what she looked like, and stepped towards the doors, only mildly surprised when they opened. The castle was a strange place, and she wondered who looked after it.

A huge dining table commanded the room she walked into, and it was heaped with food. Her stomach woke up suddenly, loudly bemoaning the fact that it hadn't had a decent meal in over a day, and she blushed. The chair at one end of the table was pulled out slightly, with a place set for her. She sat, looking around the room for some sign of someone else.

The voice surprised her. "Are you going to eat or merely look at the décor?"

She looked at the other end of the table, just able to make out a darker mass in the middle of shadows. "I thought I might do both, actually." She reached out and speared a carrot off a nearby plate with her fork, biting at it delicately as she looked at one of the paintings on the wall. It looked familiar, but she couldn't make it out at this distance.

"Were you raised with no manners, Miss Granger?" The words were hissed at her, and she smiled slightly.

"I was, but as you have yet to introduce yourself to me, I really don't think it's my manners at fault here." That painting really did look familiar, but she couldn't remember where from.

"My name has changed over recent years, and I'm afraid you may not remember who I am if you hear what it is now."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she placed some of the nearby roast chicken on her plate. "Then tell me both."

The mass at the other end of the table moved slightly, and lights began to appear. Writing appeared, and Hermione watched, fascinated.

"My name was Tom Marvolo Riddle, but now I am Lord Voldemort." The letters of his original name rearranged themselves to form his new name, but Hermione raised an eyebrow at him as they faded from the air.

"Were the theatrics really necessary?" She waved a hand to indicate the writing as the mass moved again, presumably sitting down again.

A heavy sigh floated down at her in response, and she hid her smile. She continued to eat the food in front of her, marvelling at how delicious it all was. But the painting was distracting her.

"Sorry, Lord Voldemort, but could you please tell me what painting that is?" She pointed at it, surprised to hear laughter follow her question.

"That isn't a painting, Miss Granger. Although I do think it is artistic. Took me all afternoon to finish it, but I wanted it done for dinner. I'm so glad you noticed it."

She stood, putting her napkin on the table and walking closer to the image. As she got closer, chills ran down her spine until she was trembling despite the huge fireplace next to her.

"That's- I know him." It was her bookseller, Albus Dumbledore, pinned to the wall. She looked at his eyes, horror filling her when she saw a small spark of life still trapped there. She tripped as she moved back away from it, and bile moved from her stomach to her mouth.

She could hear Voldemort talking to her, but she couldn't make out the words over the rushing of blood in her ears. She felt violated, but the worst part was that she kept thinking Dumbledore's right hand was in the wrong place. She rushed out of the room, ignoring the shiver that overcame her when she passed through one of the shadows that tried to block her path. She ran straight out of the house, paying no attention to where she was going, only caring that it was away from that castle and that image and that part of her that wanted to fix it and make it perfect.

She only realised she was lost when she heard a wolf howl near her. The sound chilled her and made her finally stop running. She looked about her, trying to see the wolf. A low growling came from behind her, and she swung quickly, but she could only see darkness between the trees that crowded her.

A second growl came from her right, and she swirled to face it. She had no idea how to protect herself against one wolf, let alone two, and she knew she was going to die soon.

A sharp bolt of light illuminated her surroundings, and she saw a large dog stop moving towards her. On her other side, a wolf stopped as well. When the second bolt came, both animals moved backwards slightly, and a third had them both running away. Hermione turned to face where the lights had come from, unsure of whether she should be grateful to her saviour or if she was now in worse danger. When she saw a tall man approach, she screamed slightly.

"Now, now, Miss Granger, I hardly think that is the way to thank your saviour." The hiss reminded her of Lord Voldemort, but she hadn't expected him to be so tall. Light appeared again, illuminating both of them, and Hermione forced down her second scream.

It wasn't that he was scary, even, just shocking. His face was smooth, like a mask, with only slits for a nose. His eyes were blood-red, and they were narrowed at her.

"These woods are not safe, Miss Granger. It would be better for you if you didn't leave my castle unaccompanied again."

"It seems to me that danger isn't solely outside your castle." Hermione was slightly out of breath and her heart was beating faster than she liked but she wanted to fluster him.

He grinned at her, an expression that did him no favours. "You have me there, I suppose. But why did you run?" At her raised eyebrow, he laughed slightly. "Did I hurt someone you cared about?"

She ignored his question, not wanting to address her own feelings on the matter. She focused instead on the way he had a hand pressed to his side and there was a faint shine to his face that she didn't think was normal.

"Are you alright?" Her voice was quiet in the night air, and the softness surprised both of them.

"No, Miss Granger, I am not alright. Magic isn't as easy on the system as you might think." His snarky response changed as he spoke until it was nice.

"Magic?" Hermione felt something inside her lift, excitement leaking through her. She saw the flinch he struggled to hide and focused herself. "You can tell me more about your magic when we get you back to the castle. Come on." She held out her hand for him to take, which he did after a moment's hesitation. They both ignored the tingle that spread from their connected hands through the rest of their body as they walked back.

* * *

Hermione didn't mention magic again until the next day, having ushered him straight into his bedroom when they got back the night before so he could rest. The next morning, a shadow waited outside her bedroom door again, and she followed it happily. She had explored her room that morning, and found an ensuite and clothes that would fit her in the wardrobe. She had bathed and got changed, and felt much cleaner. She was trying to ignore the reason why she had picked the prettiest dress.

When the shadow stopped outside a different set of doors, Hermione didn't hesitate. She walked straight towards them, grinning when they opened for her. The grin was soon wiped off her face when she realised what room she was in.

Books lined the room floor to ceiling on three walls, with the fourth hosting the doors and huge windows. A balcony wrapped around the room, cutting the huge room in half but giving a view of the high ceiling which had another window. Natural light flooded the room, and Hermione barely noticed Voldemort sitting on one of the settees scattered around the huge table that dominated most of the bottom floor.

"I take it you approve of the library?" Voldemort's tone was amused, his entire face looking lighter and happier than she had seen him last night. She traced his face with her eyes, trying to find something to be scared of.

"Your library is… Adequate." She grinned at him so he would know she was kidding, and he returned it gladly.

"I'm glad it is enough for you. We could expand it, if you want?" He cursed slightly when her face went dark, and he had to remind himself that she wasn't there of her own violation yet.

She crossed the room, deciding to ignore his question. "How are you feeling after last night?"

He smiled slightly at her as she sat down. "Much better, thank you, although I will still need to rest for most of the day. It took a lot out of me, more than normal."

She frowned slightly at that. "So, magic. Where did that come from? What's it like? What can you do?"

"I am cursed, Miss Granger, to live forever as a monster, unless I find someone to love me. That's where the magic comes from." His smile dropped as he spoke, but Hermione snorted.

"Living forever doesn't sound like much of a curse to me, especially when you can do magic."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You wouldn't understand. How am I ever to find someone to love me so I can share my life with them?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You believe in love?"

"I'm starting to." He caught her gaze, eyes showing more than words.

She blushed, looking away at all the books surrounding them. "I'm sure there's something in here that could help."

"I've never found anything about it, but feel free to look." He waved his hand to indicate the vast library, and she stood immediately, then stopped.

"How is it organised?" She bit her lip and he held back the slight groan that wanted to escape him at the sight.

"There's an index on the table, it should help you. I can barely keep up with it at this point, but the book is always right."

"What do you mean, barely keep up with it?" Hermione was already walking to the table, her tone half distracted.

Voldemort laughed slightly. "It isn't just me that's magic, the whole castle is. Why do you think the doors open by themselves?"

She nodded to show she'd heard, but the index was already open in front of her and her eyes were skimming the pages. She looked up suddenly. "Why is there a whole section on removing body parts?"

"It's a fine art, removing a body part without killing the person it was attached to. There are many schools of thought on the best-" She raised her hand, cutting him off.

"Tell me later? Over dinner?" She smiled at him slightly, and the corners of his lips lifted in response as he nodded. She looked back at the book, still smiling slightly, a blush slowly staining her face.

* * *

The next two weeks consisted of days spent in the library researching the curse and magic and nights spent learning more about the other. They would curl up on opposing couches in his sitting room, wine in hand and voicing thoughts they had thought to hide forever. She admitted how she found his penchant for torture fascinating after he told her she was the first one he had wanted to impress.

Hermione could feel herself starting to fall for Voldemort, and she thought she could tell he liked her, but she didn't know how to move things further. What if he only liked her for her research skills, like so many people before him?

"I wonder how Ron is." It was over a week into Hermione being there, and they had moved onto the same couch by this point, though at opposite ends.

Voldemort tensed slightly. "Do you want to go back to him?"

Hermione laughed slightly. "Heavens, no. Go back to being the outcast of a weird village? No, I've found where I'm supposed to be." She flushed slightly as she realised what she'd nearly admitted to. "No, I just want to make sure to he's okay on his own."

Voldemort stood, crossing to the cabinet at the side of the room. "I have something I think might be helpful then." When he returned to her side, something in his hand, he sat directly beside her, thighs brushing slightly. She flushed, and he cleared his throat.

"What is it?" She pointed at the thing in his hands, trying to ignore the steadily thickening air between them.

"It's a mirror, but I should be able to enchant it to show what your friend is doing right now. Give me your hand." It was an order, and Hermione obeyed immediately. They both held the hand of the mirror, Voldemort's around Hermione's, and the rush of heat around her body made her face flush, and she was glad for the excuse of both the wine and the fire.

The glass shimmered for a moment, their reflections vanishing in favour of Ron's face. It was screwed up, his hand clenching his hair.

"Oh no, something's wrong!" She looked up at Voldemort. "Can I write him a letter, let him know I'm okay?"

Voldemort just snickered slightly. "Keep watching."

The scene had started to zoom out, and Hermione was confused to see Ron's chest was bare.

"Why is he- OH!" Hermione quickly looked away from the mirror when the back of a head appeared below Ron's waist.

Voldemort smirked as he watched for a moment more. He looked at Hermione's face, anger growing when he saw she was near tears. "Do you want me to kill him?"

Hermione laughed slightly. "No, thank you. I just wish he'd remembered I wasn't there." Bitterness tainted her voice and Voldemort stood to return the mirror.

"I- I'm sorry you saw that." He had to force the words out but they seemed to hang in the air as Hermione stood and walked over to him.

She reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his. "Thank you." She stood directly in front of him, her eyes on their hands. His eyes were on her face, and he lifted his other hand to lift her chin. When their eyes met, it felt like they couldn't move them apart. His head bent as hers tipped further back, lips brushing as eyes slipped closed and his hand moved to the back of her head.

Their lips fit together in a way Hermione hadn't thought existed outside of books, and the soft moan that escaped her didn't register to her. Voldemort noticed it, and changed the angle of his head slightly, pressing slightly harder. He released her hand and grabbed her wrist instead, walked forwards slightly so she had to move back. When the back of her knees was pressed against the settee, they broke apart and looked at each other, chests heaving as they fought for breath.

"Miss Granger, I would very much like to fuck you on this couch." The words were nearly growled, and Hermione nodded, swallowing hard.

"Of course, my Lord." He kissed her again before her sentence was fully finished, and they melted together into blissful happiness.

* * *

Their relationship developed and they got more in tune with each other's bodies and wishes in sync with Hermione's research. The morning after they whispered I love you she made a breakthrough.

"I think I found your curse." She was surrounded by piles of books 6 deep, and when she stood one threatened to topple over. She grabbed it quickly, but her attention was mainly on the book in front of her. "I found how to break your curse."

Voldemort walked to behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders and starting to rub gently. "What is it?"

She tipped her head back as her muscles started to relax. "It's meant to punish you by having you live forever with magic but with no way to save the people you love from dying."

"I thought we knew that already."

"Yes, I discovered that ages ago. But now I know how to break it." Hermione's voice was excited, and Voldemort felt what was left of his heart drop slightly.

"You want to break it? Make me… Normal?" He kept his tone even, light, not betraying anything.

Hermione snorted and his hope lifted slightly. "Hell no. But if I can break it, I can extend it."

"Extend it?" He allowed confusion to enter his voice.

Hermione nodded, turning to face him. "Well, I'm hardly going to let you live forever without me."

He smiled at her and bent her head to kiss him. She sighed happily, lifting her arms to drape them around his neck. Sometimes having a boyfriend without a nose was a real bonus when it didn't get the way of kissing.

When they broke apart a few moments later, Hermione grinned at him. "I just need to work out a few more details, but it should all be done within the week."

"How shall we celebrate?"

Hermione's grin turned darker. "I think it's time you taught me some of your torture techniques, so we can have a real party."

Voldemort groaned slightly as he bent to kiss her again. He could never have imagined finding such a perfect girl.

At dinner that night, Voldemort surprised Hermione with a dinner guest. "Miss Brown has decided to join us today, Hermione, isn't that nice of her?"

Hermione smiled at him. "Simply perfect." Lavender mumbled something around her gag that they both ignored as they tucked into yet another delicious meal. They argued how exactly to kill Lavender as they ate, their methods turning more and more vicious and creative while they argued whether it was better to be efficient and quick or take longer and have fun with it. They ignored the whimpers coming from Lavender that got louder and louder as they worked up to screams. By the time they had moved onto dessert, Voldemort had flicked his hand at her and used magic to shush her. They finished with a coffee and an argument over semantics.

"Is it torture if it doesn't take a long time though?" Hermione was on the verge of whining.

Voldemort's smirk would have been terrifying even if it hadn't preceded his words. "Trust me, you can cause the same amount of pain in a short session as you can in a long one."

Lavender fainted and they finally paid attention to her.

"Silly girl couldn't even make it through a simple meal." Hermione's tone was malicious as she sipped at her coffee.

"You knew this was what was going to happen." Voldemort barely glanced at the unconscious woman at his dining table. "This was the plan, after all."

Hermione glared at the other woman. "I wish we could actually torture her, even just a little."

Voldemort sighed. "Within a couple of days you'll be able to torture whomever you want, darling."

Hermione beamed at him for a moment before looking back at Lavender. "So, where are we leaving her?"

* * *

It was the next morning that Hermione found the answer to their problem. She stood and walked over to Voldemort. She sat down on his lap, gently pushing the book he was reading out of the way and bending her head to kiss him. His hands slipped around her waist to hold her there. When she pulled back, his hands tightened.

"What brought this on?" His voice was low, slightly guttural.

She grinned at him. "I found our solution. As soon as our guests arrive tonight, we can get started."

"Do we need to do anything to prepare?" Something gleamed in his eyes, and Hermione smirked slightly.

"Not really. It shouldn't take more than a half an hour to get everything ready." She squealed the last word as he lifted her and stood, walking swiftly to one of the desks in the room.

"We have plenty of time to celebrate then." She giggled at the note of danger in his voice and nodded as he set her down on the edge of the desk. " _Good_."

* * *

Later that night, they sat down to a huge feast. Places were set for more than just the two of them, and the front door was slightly ajar with candles lighting the way to the dining room. Hermione dressed up in a fancy yellow ball gown whole Voldemort dressed in a plain black suit. They checked how far away their guests were with his mirror, and sat down to eat when they realised they were practically at the gates.

"Mr. Weasley is with them, you know." Voldemort said in a moment of silence between conversation topics.

Hermione shrugged lightly. "There are enough of the rest of them. I'll knock him unconscious and then remove any memories he has of me." She shrugged again, tears hinting in her voice. "He'd already forgotten about me so it won't change much."

Voldemort's eyes flashed but he didn't have a chance to say anything before they heard a slight crash in the corridor outside. The doors opened and Voldemort stood to greet his guests.

"Welcome! Please, sit and refresh yourself." His smile didn't fit on his face and the group of men, Draco in front, crowding the doorway hovered awkwardly. Ron pushed his way to the front of the group and went over to Hermione's side, keeping an eye on Voldemort the whole way.

"Hermione, how are you?" His eyes were frantic as they ran over her body, checking for any signs of bruises. But they were all well-hidden and all wanted.

Hermione sipped at her wine before turning her head to face him. "I'm fine, Ronald, now sit down and have dinner, you must be famished after trekking all the way here."

Ron sat in the seat nearest her, and the other men began slowly making their way across the room. It was only when all of them were sitting that Voldemort raised his glass.

"A toast, to all of you, for coming to the rescue of our dear Hermione. May our love for her only bring us closer. To Hermione!" Everyone else looked around nervously as Hermione preened slightly. They reluctantly lifted their glasses, repeating the toast in a mutter. Voldemort sat down, restarting his meal.

Hermione and Voldemort continued having a light conversation as everyone else sat and looked dumbfounded. They had arrived, fully expecting to have to rescue Hermione, but instead found her playing 'Lady of the Manor' with a monster. Ron reached for some food, deciding that if Hermione was eating it then it must be okay. He drained his wine quickly, and Hermione hid her smile when she saw it was gone, quickly offering him some more from the jug between them.

When dessert was served by the shadows, conversation had sprung up all around the table. The two men on either side of Voldemort had imbibed a fair amount of alcohol and were now engaged in an argument about the price of sheep, a subject on which they kept trying to get Voldemort's opinion. He merely smirked and made some vague comment that made them argue again. Hermione was asking Ron questions about his new girlfriend and keeping him distracted so he didn't notice how sleepy he was getting. The other men were talking loudly as the alcohol affected them and removed most of their inhibitions.

When everyone as finished, Voldemort stood again. "Alas, our meal is done, but this means the entertainment part of the night must begin. If you would all follow me and Miss Granger, we will lead you to the ballroom."

The men all stood as Hermione did, their manners ingrained even through the alcohol. Only Ron didn't stand, his muscles not listening to him trying to. Hermione bent and kissed his cheek. "Don't bother, Ron, just sleep." He nodded absently as his eyes slipped further and further closed.

The rest of them went through a second door to the room, Hermione's hand on Voldemort's arm as they swept ahead of the crowd.

"Are you ready, my love?" Voldemort murmured to her when he felt her hand tremble slightly, and she nodded as she squeezed his arm slightly in response.

"Just excited," she replied as they reached the middle of the ball room. They turned together, and she addressed the assembled men.

"Gentlemen, welcome. Tonight we have a very special treat tonight." She smirked slightly at them. "Not that any of you will be sticking around for the main show, but we thank you for your participation."

They looked at each other in confusion, Draco speaking from his position in front. "What do you mean, our participation? I'm not going to participate in anything."

Hermione sighed at him. He hadn't drunk as much as the others, so hadn't had as much of the potion the alcohol had been laced with. "Mr. Malfoy, if you would be so kind as to shut up? Much appreciated."

Voldemort waved his hand, and the doors of the room all slammed shut, locking themselves. "If you would all be so kind as to remove your shirts so Miss Granger can more easily kill you, that would be most helpful."

The men had started when the doors had shut, but now they looked openly terrified. "What the hell do you mean, kill us? That bitch couldn't kill a fly." Draco sneered at them both before turning to try the door.

Voldemort waved his hand and Draco went flying through the room to the far wall, where he hung in mid-air, pinned by magic. Voldemort's face went colder, his red eyes gleaming. "You will not disrespect the woman I love."

Hermione squeezed his arm slightly. "My Lord, don't kill him. Allow me." She grinned at Draco, a wild light in her eyes. "Last, though. Your death will be my final act." She turned back to face the rest of the crowd, who were huddled, terrified, the drugs in their system making it harder for them to contemplate what was happening. "You, gentlemen, will be part of my transformation. I am going to live forever, and your lives will be that price."

It took until sunrise for the curse to be finished. Hermione was severely weakened, but she grinned at Voldemort when he lay her down in their bed.

"All done. I'm not a bookworm anymore."

Voldemort kissed her head lightly as she fell asleep. "No, my Queen, you are not the bookworm anymore."

A/N: This is meant to be a retelling of Beauty and the Beast, but with a twist on it much like 'The Tiger's Wife' by Angela Carter, which I had to read recently for my English degree. Any mistakes are my own fault and the fact that is is nearly 2 a.m.


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